Have you ever lost a fight?
by CD57
Summary: McGee remembers asking Gibbs that question. Now, he's seriously regretting that...


**Author's notes:** This story just popped right into my _fron_ after rewatching that episode with Corporal Worth. Abby and McGee were discussing Gibbs' fighting skills...

**Season:** 5, sometime after Corporal Punishment

**Disclaimer:** oh, they're all mine, I swear. But I give _them_ credit....

**Rating:** make that T, just in case. I do tend to whump a bit here and there. Don't know why that happens!

**Summary:** Timothy McGee asked Gibbs a question. Now he is seriously regretting that.

* * *

_"Boss? Have you ever lost a fight?"_

Timothy McGee regretted ever asking that question. What the hell had he been thinking anyway? Sometimes, his honesty or curiosity was going to get the better of him.

He remembered wanting to know, wanting to hear the answer from Gibbs himself. He knew he saw his boss as unrealistically invincible. During the five years he'd been working under him, really, he'd seen nothing proving him the opposite. Gibbs never showed fear, never backed down and had never lost a fight.

Not that they'd actually been in a lot of hand-to-hand fights, he reminded himself, but still. And the time that that supersoldier had managed to throw Gibbs down... that really didn't count in McGee's books. The Corporal had been high on steroids and had knocked them all around, even Ziva.

Unconsciously rolling the shoulder that had been injured during his own confrontation with Corporal Worth, McGee wished he could press one hand over his eyes, wanting to rub his forehead and pinch the bridge of his nose. He had no business asking that question, it was asking for trouble.

Abby had an absolute unwavering confidence in the man. She'd been smiling when they had been trying to come up with anybody to put Gibbs up again, from Godzilla to all of the Terminators, stating that the "bossman" had mad-skills. She'd nodded at him, encouraging him to ask, already positive of the answer and he hadn't backed down when Gibbs had stepped closer, almost too close, invading his personal space. He'd looked the man in the eye and had asked that stupid, dreaded question.

_"Boss? Have you ever lost a fight?"_

Oh, he'd wanted to know. He'd seriously believed the answer would be a solid no. He wasn't Abby, but he also looked up to the man, had a faith in him that went further than normal common sense. The answer, that Gibbs hadn't thought he'd ever won one, had more than surprised him and he'd been wondering what Gibbs had meant ever since.

_Did the boss think he'd lost a lot of fights?_

Why would he have said that? One question answered, many more luring at the back of his mind. He really should stop that. Look where it had gotten him.

_Had the boss lost this fight?_

Shaking his head furiously, Tim yanked on the chains, not thinking about the way the metal cut through his skin. He looked down at the man lying on the cold concrete, willing him with nothing more than his MIT-mind to get up.

"Mh..oggh!" Was that his own voice? God, he sounded pathetic. Scared like a trapped animal. He wasn't. Well, an animal, that was. He was no animal. Not even according to Abby.

Scared? Oh, yeah. Trapped? That too.

_Not to mention royally screwed._

---oo---oo---

They'd been chasing that suspect, right into that abandoned warehouse. They'd split up, Tony and Ziva searching the main floor while Gibbs had motioned him to follow. They'd silently climbed the stairs. They would sweep that floor.

Gibbs had dodged off to the right, silently pointing to the left, so McGee had left in that direction.

He had been careful. He had walked on his tip-toes. Silently. Gun drawn, ready for anything.

A soft scraping sound had alerted him but it had been too late already. A rope yanked around his neck, taking his breath away. A hand slapped over his mouth, making it impossible for him to cry out. A gun, pressed on his neck, in case he was brave enough to mumble or moan.

He hadn't. He'd been too busy trying to get some air in through his nose.

His cuffs had been removed from his pockets, his left hand yanked back, he'd felt the metal around his wrist, than the other arm followed and after another soft click he was chained to something on the wall. The gun still at his neck, the rope around his neck had loosened and he had barely been able to draw in a breath when his mouth had been taped shut.

Before he'd been able to comprehend what had happened, Gibbs had appeared and had gotten into a huge fight with the suspect.

_"Boss? Have you ever lost a fight?"_

He shouldn't have asked that question. It was silly, it was stupid and he really, really didn't want to witness his boss loose one.

Abby's blind faith would have come in handy by then, he'd figured, as he'd been forced to watch how both men kicked, hit, rolled and fell before getting up and lunge at each other again. McGee had watched, in terror and in awe. Mad-skills, yeah, that much was obvious. The suspect however had his own fair bit and with despair thrown in the mix he really gave Gibbs a hard time.

McGee had winced as the man grabbed Gibbs' right wrist, yanked while blocking his legs, throwing the special agent forward.

McGee had swallowed desperately as bile built up in his throat when he thought he heard something pop, or break, or was it the unmistakable sound of his boss just slamming with his shoulder against the wall?

_"Boss? Have you ever lost a fight?"_

Throwing up with your mouth taped shut wasn't a very good plan and McGee had kept swallowing, gagging against the tape that was securing his lips.

_Please, boss, don't loose, not now, not ever and definitely not with me watching._

Tim would have sighed in relief if that had been possible when Gibbs had scrambled back to his feet, one arm falling limply down but the other already moving.

_He hadn't lost. Not yet. Where was Tony? And Ziva?_

McGee's legs had trembled uncontrollably and he had no idea how he managed to keep standing up. Maybe it was because the chains didn't give him much slack, no room to slide down. Maybe it was because his eyes were glued to the scene that played out in front of him. Maybe he was terrified that when he looked away for one brief moment, lost his attention one second, that his boss would falter. One moment it had looked the suspect had the upper-hand, then it looked like Gibbs was winning. A final round of well-thrown punches and both men had fallen to the ground, the suspect backwards, Gibbs on his front.

_Who'd won?_

McGee blinked. It had happened so fast. Had the suspect slammed his head while falling? Had the man managed to knock Gibbs out? The suspect wasn't moving, but neither was Gibbs.

So here he was, scared, trapped and unable to make more than a pathetic sound that couldn't exactly be identified as calling out to his boss.

He tried again, fighting against the duct-tape. "Mh..orgh!"

_"Boss? Have you ever lost a fight?"_

He'd better not start now. How was he supposed to explain that to Abby, Tim thought in despair.

Then, after a long, dredging time, Gibbs moved, slowly pulling his knees up one by one, steadying himself with one arm. He crawled forward, took his cuffs out of his pocket and with some effort managed to roll the suspect on his stomach, before securing the man's hands behind his back.

Gibbs then slowly leaned back before sliding down until he was stretched out on the floor on his back, his left hand grabbing his right elbow, his face twisted in pain and his breathing coming in erratic gasps.

Then DiNozzo arrived, gun drawn, yelling, "NCIS!"

The senior field agent's gaze went from the suspect on the floor to McGee chained on the wall before resting on Gibbs, realizing that there was no threat anymore and, securing and holstering his weapon, he dropped on his knees. "Boss," he urged, placing a hand on Gibbs' left shoulder. "Boss, you okay?"

McGee watched as Gibbs writhed, rolling a bit from the left to the right, one hand still on the other arm. "Pull it back," he managed to say through gritted teeth, with a slight nod to the right, indicating at his shoulder.

McGee's eyes widened. Remembering the immense pain that had been pulsing through his own body after the incident with Corporal Worth, he had a fair idea of how Gibbs was feeling right now with an apparently dislocated shoulder from the impact with the wall.

_Did he really want Tony to yank it back in its pocket?_

Tony seemed to realize what Gibbs was asking as he visually paled. "Boss, are you sure that is wise? Shouldn't we wait for the paramedics?"

Paramedics, yes, that was good, McGee silently agreed. He even nodded, briefly, with his head, although neither of the men on the floor noticed. He'd been lucky, being already surrounded by medics back then and had been given some happy juice soon after his shoulder had popped out of his socket. He'd never been grateful for anything in his life; the pain had been awful. The medication had numbed him enough but he still remembered when they had to reduce the shoulder, God, it had hurt, even being doped up, and after two unmerciful attempts they had decided to put him completely under to finish the task.

Gibbs had other ideas, though. His face was twisted, his eyes were screwed shut and his legs moved uncontrollably, one heel stomping down on the hard floor. "DiNozzo!" he barked. Unwilling to wait, but realizing his senior field agent wasn't going to be the one able to help, he struggled to sit up. "Ziva!"

Then Ziva was there, stepping around the corner, her weapon sweeping the room along with her gaze as McGee saw her take in the situation. She moved forward, ignored her boss but pressed two fingers at the suspect's neck, then snatched her cuffs out of her pocket and secured him leg and all to a pole near the wall. Running her hands over his body, she searched him for weapons and removed a knife and pushed the gun that lay scattered over the floor away and out of reach.

"Ziva!" Gibbs' voice urged.

McGee saw her turn her attention to Gibbs all but hanging against DiNozzo's chest. "Yes," she said, "hang on."

She quickly scanned the room, then motioned to Tony, "Get that blanket."

DiNozzo gently lowered Gibbs down and got to his feet to grab what she wanted.

Ziva glanced over her shoulder, her gaze searching McGee's. "Are you hurt?"

Was he? McGee hadn't considered that question yet. His wrists were a bit rough, scraped from the cuffs. The rope around his neck hadn't done much damage, if you didn't count a near panic-attack. He'd nearly chocked from vomiting with a closed mouth so his throat was sore. But hurt?

_It had hurt to watch the fight. To watch Gibbs go down. It hurt, to see him in pain, to hear it in his voice._

That wasn't what she meant, he knew so he shook his head.

Ziva gave a curt nod and returned her attention to the man sprawled on the floor. She grabbed the blanket, folded it then started pushing it under Gibbs' torso.

DiNozzo knelt again, grabbing Gibbs by his good arm and helped him up, enough for Ziva to place the blanket, one part underneath him, under his right armpit, the other part over his chest. "Grab the ends," she ordered, looking at Tony. Her hands were sliding over the misshapen shoulder, as if determining what damage had been done.

Tim looked at Tony's face, realizing what Ziva wanted him to do before DiNozzo got it and was glad he was just standing there, out of the way, cuffed to the wall. He concentrated on breathing, in and out, slowly through his nose. He couldn't help being impressed by the professional way Ziva was handling this situation.

Tony looked at Ziva in bewilderment, trying to ignore the grunts coming from Gibbs.

"Grab the ends, Tony," McGee heard Ziva hissing, "and be ready to pull. You know, give me some counterweight?"

"Today, DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked, his voice harsh, his eyes shooting daggers at the senior field agent.

McGee couldn't see it all with Ziva standing with her back to him, but she grabbed Gibbs' arm, waited until Tony was getting ready, holding on to the blanket and throwing in his weight as he pulled.

Placing one foot in Gibbs' armpit, Ziva took her position, mumbled something that sounded like "Relax," than yanked hard on Gibbs' arm.

McGee felt his stomach clench, trying to unblock the sound of his boss yelping. He wondered if he'd heard another popping sound, just like he had heard before, when the shoulder had been dislocated or if he was just imagining things. He wondered if he ever would be able to forget that sound and tried to block out the agonizing yelp of his boss.

Slowly, he inhaled some air through his nose, then opened his eyes.

Tony had crouched down again, Gibbs was leaning back against the senior agent's chest, fighting to control his breathing. Tony's face was even paler than Gibbs', McGee noted and he was glad to see that Gibbs was slowly getting more relaxed, despite the vivid colors of bruises and scrapes from the fight covering his face and hands.

Ziva was probing gently, then she gave a nod. "Better now?"

"Yes, thanks," Gibbs croaked.

Her hand briefly brushed the team leader's knee. She then turned and walked over to McGee and pulled the duct-tape off his mouth.

McGee winced, swallowed and licked his lips. "Thanks."

Gibbs tilted his head and glanced at his junior field agent as Ziva worked on the cuffs behind McGee's back. "You okay?"

_Me?_

His eyes still wide in shock, McGee nodded. He was fine. Shaken, and he'd been scared, but was fine now. If you didn't count that he was feeling incredibly stupid about getting caught. He would never live this one down and already knew Tony was going to call him McCuff for the next couple of days.

_"Boss? Have you ever lost a fight?"_

Tim made a mental note to himself to never ask questions like that again. What had he been thinking? Some questions were better off not asked. Some answers were better left alone, lingering, in the back of the mind.

It was evident how this had turned up. Zero for him, for letting himself get caught like that. One for Gibbs. It had been a close call, and he hadn't come out of it unharmed. Still, Gibbs hadn't lost the fight.

Abby would be proud.

**FIN - THE END - EINDE  
**


End file.
